The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. Taking advantage of his embarrassed position, Jonathan and his assistant rushed upon him, and disarmed him. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Kneebone, he took his departure.
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